


Shotgun

by ShutUpGinger (Chameowmile)



Series: Old Stories [2016] [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Hux BAMFs it, I really have no idea what to tag things as once I get to actually tagging them lol, Kylo biffs it, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, also there's applesauce, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7093294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chameowmile/pseuds/ShutUpGinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Dead Bite"</p><p>While stopped for a lunch break, Hux plays guard dog and watches the road while the others eat.<br/>Somehow, even with there being almost no people left in the world, some idiot still manages to get himself into a motorbike accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> Yesss, zombie AU shall continue, I anticipate three chapters to this particular story arc, but we'll see what we end up with as I continue to work on it.

-Hux-  
He hates when he gets like this, shaky, and hot, and feeling, to put it simply, like crap.

It’s been almost five years since he was bitten, but still like clockwork, he finds himself falling ill every six months because of it.

Phasma smirks over at him from the driver’s seat of her old red Chevy, ancient even before everything went to hell, and slaps him playfully on the shoulder.

“Let me guess, you want tomato soup.”

Hux scowls halfheartedly at that, but doesn’t refute it. Every time he gets sick like this, tomato soup becomes just about the only thing he can actually keep down. At least, the only thing that they tend to have on _hand_ that he can keep down.

“We’ll stop for dinner in a couple minutes.” She promises, smiling softly ahead at the oddly pleasant weather. “Once we’re past the trees we’ll be hitting farmland, so we can take advantage of one of the fields.”

Mitaka, their only other group member, groans weakly from the backseat. “We really need to fix the AC, Phas.”

“Buck up, buttercup!”

***

It’s been a long time since they last gathered supplies, nearly two months at this rate.

They haven’t been through a city since winter ended, when the zombies were still slow from the cold and less putrid.

They’re not about to run out of food or anything, but their variety has certainly diminished, so it may not be long before they decide to give in and just plan a run.

They always say they’ll ration their stockpiled food out so that they don’t end up with a heap of canned beans and weird MRE flavors, but they never do, always eating the best food first, so that they have nothing good left, just like now.

Thankfully for Hux though, they do have plenty of tomato soup.

Phasma’s apparently settled on peanut butter and jelly, which she pretty much just eats out of the jar cause there’s nothing to put it on these days, with even Saltine crackers rotting away on the shelves, while Mitaka, who can’t eat tomatoes, appears to be in the process of unpacking a chicken and dumplings MRE. It’s one of the better flavors in their unanimous opinion, but also one of the only ones without tomato, meaning it lasted longer because they had to save it for him. It’s hardly a complete meal by this point, with them having picked out all but the meal itself and the dessert, but it’ll keep him fed for the rest of the day.

He pulls out a pouch of something colorful from the bag.

“M&M’s.” He grins. “Vacuum sealed. They don’t even look melted.”

Phasma snorts, setting her peanut butter aside. “Hot as it is out, they’re not gonna stay that way.”

“Doesn’t matter as long as they taste fine.” He retorts, grinning a little. “Might taste pretty good mixed with that peanut butter.”

The two of them stare each other down for a moment, before Phasma relents, smirking.

“Fine, mix it up, but I want some too.”

“’course. We can save some for when Hux is feeling better.”

Hux grimaces weakly at the thought of eating something so heavy right now, and turns his attention away from the two of them, out toward the field.

He has his rifle in his lap, in case something decides to rear its ugly head, but so far nothing has shown up.

“Do you want some applesauce?” Phasma asks, cutting into his thoughts.

He flicks his gaze over in confusion, as she expectantly holds a jar out for him to inspect. It’s leftover from a batch they made a couple years ago, when they were still living in a little farmhouse, complete with an apple tree.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Mitaka found it crammed under the back seat yesterday.” She explains, turning it over to read the label. “It’s even a cinnamon one. But we weren’t gonna open it you weren’t gonna get to have any.”

He considers it, seriously considers it, but sighs in the end, shaking his head.

“I’d love to, but I really can’t.”

She smiles, and sets it aside.

“It’ll be your get well present.”

 

-Ben-

The day is hotter than usual, and everybody seems to be feeling it, including him, who was, up until recently, crammed into the back of Poe’s pickup. 

Normally, a small motorbike rests in the bed of it but he decided to take it out at their last stop, fed up with the sweltering heat of the cars while everybody else seems oblivious to it.

There hasn’t been much biter activity out here, so he’s free to speed about as he pleases.

Unfortunately this road probably wasn’t the best choice to go cruising on, overgrown and on its last legs as he speeds a few miles ahead of the others, sick of their slow pace.

It’s here that his bike hits a pot hole, front tire catching and pivoting the vehicle forward so suddenly that it flings him across the ground, and straight into an old, tangled bramble of barbed wire.

 

-Hux-

The sound of vehicles approaching is more than enough to get the three of them to duck down into the bed of Phasma’s truck, out of sight while the threat of a dangerous group passes.

Watching the road through the side mirror of the vehicle, Hux gets a clear view of the motorcycle when it crashes, slamming a man into the ground like nothing. 

Startled, he sits up, to watch the man try and right himself.

Blood drips from the victim’s face, and it’s obvious that he was thrown right into the barbed wire fence with the way he’s so helplessly scrambling to be free of it, a zombie no less than three feet away from him.

In the distance a dust trail indicates the imminent arrival of the rest of his group, but Hux knows they won’t make it in time.

Spurred by instinct, Hux grabs his rifle and jumps out of the truck, making a run for it through the nearly eye level grass.

The second he gets a clear line of sight, he pulls the trigger, just as the thing is about to reach the whimpering man.

_Bang_!

The zombie clatters to the ground but another has risen from the other side of the road, taking it’s place.

_Click!_

His gun stalls, as it sometimes does when he hasn’t had the chance to clean it.

Without thought, he rushes forward, hopping the downed fence with his rifle grasped firmly in his hands, and brings it crashing down into the creature’s skull.

It collapses with a wet _crack_ and falls limply to the ground.

“Hux!”

Phasma falls in beside him, her own rifle handy for backup if necessary, and grabs onto him steadily, a reminder that he’s not actually in any condition to jump around like this, while Mitaka stays back to help tend to the wounded man on the ground.

 

-Ben-  
Trembling more than he’d liked to admit, his heart racing a mile a minute, Ben is grateful when the black haired man comes to help him up.

“I’m starting to understand deer a little better now.” He offers faintly, cracking a weak smile as he’s helped to his feet, some of the less entrenched barbed wire falling away from his body, though not all.

The man smiles back nervously in turn but says nothing as he presses a hand to Ben’s side, causing a sharp jolt of pain to erupt there as he disturbs the wire jammed into him.

“We’ll have to cut you out before we move you.” He mumbles, glancing anxiously over Ben’s shoulder. “Hux are you okay?!”

Behind him, the redhead who pulled the whole rambo stunt, has collapsed to the ground, the blonde woman rubbing his neck soothingly.

“F...fine.” He offers weakly, as Ben himself resists the urge to sit down and occupy the ground similarly.

The rest of his group has begun pulling up, and it isn’t long before they’re clamboring out of their vehicles and pointing weapons at his rescuer and his companions.

“Hey! Stand down!” He calls sharply. “They saved me!”

His mother locks gazes with him as if to check his sincerity. Finding it, she pats Poe on the shoulder, signalling for him to drop his shot-gun, so that the others may follow suit.

“We’ll play nice if you do.” She calls, voice clear and steady. “We have no intention of causing trouble without need.”

The blonde, still rubbing the redheads neck, glances up.

“We’re as peaceful as anybody can be these days!”

Ben’s mother signals for Rey to go and tend to him, shooing off the black haired man who was holding that station previously.

“Then it’s settled, we can discuss what happened when we’ve tended to our injured.”

He hears the redhead chuckling weakly at that, but nobody objects.

 

-Hux-

“Are you serious?” The redhead squawks, eyeing the two white pills being held out to him by a brown-haired girl from the injured man’s group. He thinks her name was Rey.

“Yup.” She chuckles. “The least we can do is spare a couple fever reducers. You did save Ben’s life and all.”

He continues to gawk at the offering, and she scoffs, rolling her eyes a little.

“Also, actually take them. Don’t like, squirrel them away for the future or something weird. We don’t need you dying because you were trying to be thrifty.”

Scowling a bit at the order, he accepts the tabs, and a bottle of water to take them with, that was already present in his tent.

This group seems fairly nomadic, so things went pretty smoothly when they decided to set up camp right after the incident, practiced hands deftly hitching up tents in the forest bordering the fields.

The tent he’s found himself in is small, space enough for himself and himself only, with Mitaka and Phasma each getting a similar one in this section of the woods. From what he saw, all the tents kept by this group are popup, practical things coming in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colors, devoid of the irritating poles and connectors that he remembers from the tent Phasma had at the start of all this (before a zombie tore through it and they decided it was just better to sleep in the truck).

It’s a blackout tent as well, so with the ‘windows’ presently zipped, no light is coming in, save for a small sliver of it from where the girl left the door a little ajar. He doesn’t know if all the tents are blackout or not, but he does know that they’re trying to make him sleep off his fever, so it wouldn’t really be surprising if this is their designated sickbay.

He’s been given a sleeping pad, a blanket, and a pillow, and though a small enough offering, it’s exceptionally generous, and he can’t remember the last time he had a comfortable bedding set. The truck only has two raggedy quilts in it at the moment and some little pilly throws that never quite cover anybody fully.

He knows he shouldn’t be making himself this comfortable, that letting his guard down is always bad news, but as he takes the pills with a bottle of water he was given, he sinks rather comfortably back into the bedding, and is out within moments, snoring softly.

Honestly, if he could relax like this every time he gets sick, his recovery time would be halved.

***

The next time he wakes, there’s no longer light streaming through the slit in the door. His body is stiff, and his skin cool with half dried sweat, muscles sore from lack of movement for however long he’s been asleep.

Drowsily, he forces himself to sit upright, feeling shaky, weak, but not entirely unwell compared to earlier, as he tentatively makes his way to the tent’s door.

Even before he’s brushed it aside he can see that it is in fact night time, meaning he’s slept at least eight hours. The sillhouettes of the other tents loom across the clearing, pots and tin cans rattle in the wind where they’ve been strung around the camp for an alarm, and in the dead center of it all is a fire.

Some people are sitting amiably around it, cooking if he can go by the smell, and Phasma is there too, so he climbs to his feet in mild relief. She seems well, even smiling and joking with the older woman from before and Mitaka dozing against her shoulder.

Feeling a bit chilly, he grabs the blanket from the tent before making his way over to the fire.

 

-Ben-  
He really wishes they had painkillers. 

His injuries have been treated, none too severe, at least by comparitive standards. His right arm is splinted and slinged, immobal to keep him from moving it, and his body is just a little battered, aching and uncomfortable whenever he moves. As long as he doesn’t get tetanus from that shitty barbed wire, he’ll be fine.

He mainly feels shitty from blood loss and shock, so he’s kind of just dozing a little, lying beside the fire with a pillow and a blanket while his mom pets his head and chats with the blonde woman from the other group.

He doesn’t really pay their conversation much mind as he watches the fire flicker in front of his eyes. Occasionally he spoons cherry pie filling into his mouth because it’s sitting right beside him, but not much. It’s old, not something they made themselves because nobody in their group cans, and tastes kind of metallic. It’s a-lot sweeter than he remembers, his palate very different from what it was in his youth, but still tastes pretty good he thinks.

Something feels amiss, and he whines softly, only realizing a moment or so later that what’s amiss is the fact that his mother has moved away from him.

He sits up irritably, but his question is cut short as he spots the redhead from before approaching, wrapped in a blanket despite the warmth of the evening.

The man doesn’t say anything and looks nervous, gaze flicking awkwardly to the ground and then his friends, but avoiding all others present.

Ben’s mother sits up a little straighter.

“How are you feeling?”

The redhead flinches, but responds despite his obvious nervousness as if he hadn’t.

“Well. Thank you. I didn’t expect such good accomodations.”

“And more than we would typically offer, but you did save Ben’s life.” Her hand finds it’s way back to his head, petting it soothingly despite how embarrassing it is to have his mother coddle him like this in front of others. “And we are grateful for that.”

“I’ve grown more sympathetic over the years, rather than less.” The redhead’s eyes finally land on Ben, and it looks as if he’s about to clarify, but then he freezes, stiffening. “It’s you.”

Ben blinks too, finally registering who he’s looking at.

“Damn...karma’s a bitch.”

Ben’s mother and the man’s blonde friend look confused, both frowning a little.

“Do you know each other?” His mom asks, looking surprised.

Ben blinks, still a little stunned by this turn of events.

“Yeah...I said I saved a redhead once, remember?”

She chokes.

“You mean the one who stole your first aid kit?!”

The redhead pales a little at that.

“I gave him food in return!”

Ben snorts, knowing that his mother isn’t actually that mad about it.

“It was pretty much empty by that point anyway.”

She chuckles a little too.

“Isn’t this where you tell me you were right and that I was wrong?”

He smiles, remembering the way the group had gotten pissed at him for saving somebody at the time, when their supplies were still scarce and members few, but decides not to rub it in...too much, as the redhead is waved over to a seat beside Phasma.

“If you think about it.” Ben smirks. “I saved myself. Wouldn’t’ve been anyone there if I’d let him die.”

His mother casts him a playfully stern look.

“Well you wouldn’t’ve had to save yourself if you had been paying attention. But I’m infinitely glad that you did save his life, and not just because he saved yours.” With that, she turns toward the redhead. “Ben, Phasma, and Dopheld explained exactly what happened on that road this afternoon, and I’m a little impressed to say the least. Most people would have panicked when their gun failed to fire.”

‘Phasma’ snorts a little at this and locks the skinny guy in a headlock, tousling his hair to elicit some scandalized little squeaks from him he tries to pry himself free like a goat with it’s head through a fence.

“Hux is pretty much too hardcore for his own good, he’s gotten himself into enough trouble in his life time to know not to panic.”

Ben notes the way his mother smiles at that.

“Best way to learn is through mistakes. Unfortunately, most people don’t survive their mistakes these days, so you’re certainly one of only a few who can boast that kind of wisdom.”

The redhead, having given up on freeing himself, huffs softly.

“I’d be willing to share the things I’ve learned over the years about the uh...zombies, if you’d wish me to. We can exchange knowledge.”

“I would.” She agrees, smiling. “And in return, we’ll offer your group a place in ours.”

All but ‘Dopheld’, still asleep, jerk to attention at that, Phasma even dropping Red’s head.

“What? Seriously?”

“Definitely. Your group would offer ours a variety of traits we’re currently lacking, and in turn, we can offer you our individual services as well. All we ask is you push your weight and agree to a probationary period until we’re certain we can trust you. Whatever current chain of command you three have will remain as it is within your own circle, and all decisions will be run through your leader as they’re made.”

Phasma snaps her gaze to Red, and he stiffens, looking a little alarmed by her.

“We’ll...we’ll consider it.” He stammers, glancing down at Dopheld, who’s pretty much missing all the drama. “We’ll think it over for a few days.”

Phasma looks like she wants to strangle him, but begrudgingly agrees, turning back to them with her arms crossed a bit.

“We’ve been pushing our weight for a long time. It’ll be nice to have some people watching our backs for once.”

Ben finally sits up fully, picking up his can of cherries.

“Do you want something to eat, Red? We have cherries, and we have leftover pheasant.”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” He says, sounding a little bolder than one in his situation would normally be.

He smirks. “We’ll set you up a plate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment or kudos uvu  
> You can find me over at Kevin-the-chicken.tumblr.com


End file.
